Gifts and Curses, Hatred and Fire
by Bayanette Winters
Summary: Yang was sent to assassinate Fire Lord Zuko, a tired and lonely monarch just trying to do his duty. However, when she makes a different choice than she was supposed to, she puts the life of her family at risk. Though there's much more than meets the eye about this woman, will Yang have the power to save what she has left? Or will Zuko burn her path?
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

" _Are you truly unaware of this wish? The one that your sister holds deep within her soul?_

…

 _Hmm._

 _Very well. I shall grant this wish for you. May it teach your soul love, compassion, and self-hatred as your jealousy becomes your permanent scar."_

—

"I know I keep screwing up, but, please…I...I love you, Mai."

"I know. But lately I've realized that you love your secrets _more_. You'll have an easier time keeping them when you're alone."

"What are you telling me?"

" _Goodbye_ , Fire Lord."

"Mai! Come back! I— I— _**I order you to come back**_ _!_ "

—

 **1 Year Later...**


	2. Chapter 2: Broken Jasmine

"Oh, good morning!" Iroh greeted his first customer with a grand, cheerful smile. The girl gave a polite nod. Her thin green hood sat loosely around her head, keeping most of her thick brown hair out of sight. Her light skin had dark patches here and there, showing a vibrant lack of sleep in her features. Iroh quickly sat her down at one of his tables. "What brings you to the Jasmine Dragon today, young one?"

The girl looked up, her aquatic blue eyes shimmering with a fog of exhaustion. "Just tea, sir. I hear it's the best in the Kingdom."

"You heard correctly!" Iroh bustled around his shop, obtaining a few tea cups and other various items. "Don't even worry about what to order. I know the best thing to wake up a tired mind."

He heard the girl plop down heavily at a table behind him. He imagined her head leaning against the freshly-polished wood. A large sigh met the old man's ears.

"Thank you, sir."

"No need to call me sir, young lady." Iroh turned around with a smile and gave her a steaming cup and saucer. He sat across from her with a beverage of his own. "Just call me 'Iroh'."

"Iroh?" The girl muttered as she sipped at her drink. The liquid wetted her chapped lips, giving them life and a small relieved smile. "I've heard that name before."

"I would not be surprised. Many have heard my name. The Jasmine Dragon is the best in the country!"

"I can't seem to recall where though…." The girl set down her half-empty cup. "This is good tea, sir."

Iroh shook his head, but a grin still spread from cheek to cheek. "I pride myself on making the best tea. Tea not only soothes the body, but the mind as well."

"Indeed." The girl finished her drink, then gave the man a knowing gaze. "I remember where I've heard the name Iroh. You were a great warlord some time during the war."

Iroh frowned at last. He stared at the girl, whose eyes had gone from tired to focused within a dying man's desperate breath.

"Yes, but that is all in the past now." Iroh stood, taking the empty cups away. He turned his back on the girl, anticipating something suspicious.

"And you're the favored uncle of Fire Lord Zuko, too, right?"

Iroh gave no response.

"Sorry, old man. But I need you. Fire Lord Zuko will be much easier to kill if your life is on the line."


	3. Chapter 3: The Mistaken Choice

**2 Months Prior…**

"Fire Lord Zuko," came a light voice. Zuko glanced up from the scrolls before him. His eyes were tired and took a moment to adjust. However, as Suki came into view, the Fire Lord forced himself to appear awake and strong.

"What is it?"

"My Lord," Suki said bowing. "Your family is here, as is the entertainment."

"Very good," Zuko replied lamely. He stood and fought back a yawn. "I'll meet them in a moment."

Suki bowed again and left, looking worried for her ruler's health.

Zuko sighed when she was out of earshot and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His eyes closed for a moment and nearly didn't open again. His lungs let out another huff; he _needed_ to keep awake. The Fire Nation wasn't going to rule itself. And until worries over another war died down, he wouldn't find much time to rest. Zuko straightened up and smoothed out his regal robes. He checked his appearance with his hands; his face felt stretched out and exhausted, his hair was slipping out of his crown, and his neck felt stiff and swollen. He, at the very least, readjusted his hair before heading to meet with his mother.

—

"You know what to do," muttered an attendant. Yang gave him a low hiss.

"I _know_. Don't worry. I won't fail." Yang straightened her back, extending one leg in front of her. As she gave a deep breath, she put her hands around the limb and pulled her ankle above her head. Her muscles complied easily, making no effort to collapse or rip as they did a few months before. Yang smiled and repeated the movement with her other leg.

"Show's ready to go, sister," the same attendant came. The short, green-robed man handed her a small blade. "Remember: Ying dies if you don't get this right."

It was truly a stroke of fortune for the Blue Dragon, to have this opportunity. The Fire Lord rarely saw visitors to begin with. And to have a private audience with him, having only a handful of witnesses, and a clear escape route... an assassin's luxury. Yang wasn't sure how to feel about the lucky break, but she still worked to straighten her posture and look her handler in the eye.

"I remember, Lao," Yang spat as she snatched up the projectile. She gave it a quick glance-over, then slipped it into a pouch beneath her sleeve. "Stop nagging me. I'll get it right the first time."

As Yang stepped into the room, she didn't marvel at the elegant red cloth hanging against the wall. She didn't admire the high arched ceiling or the smooth, freshly-cleaned floors. She instead stared forward at the Fire Lord himself.

 _Spirits, help me. He's only a child._

Actually, he was Yang's age, but the young adult's mind was trying to dissillusion itself in any way it could.

Lao and another attendant made rude noises beneath their breaths, urging Yang to move forward. She did so in a careful, practiced manner. Her bare feet thudded lightly against the wooden floorboards. Her dancer's dress, while the bottom of it didn't reach past her thighs, dragged against the floor via her elongated sleeves. The dance she was about to perform was unique and required a heavy fabric with odd proportions to execute the movements. Yang didn't mind their weight anymore. In fact, despite the life she'd had to adapt for it, dancing had become her safe escape.

When Yang reached her designated spot, she bowed to the Fire Lord and noted the red-armored guards around him as well as a Kyoshi Warrior. She also noticed several other faces that she did not recognize; a middle-aged couple and a very young girl kneeled near the ruler.

 _Witnesses,_ Yang thought in dismay. She rose again and looked at her target. The scar on his left eye was almost haunting and gave him a devilish appearance. _Good. That will make him easier to_ …. Yang didn't finish the thought, instead vaguely listening to Lao announce her presence. When he was finished, the Fire Lord met Yang's eyes.

"It is an honor to have you here," he said politely. "My family tells me you're quite popular in the Earth Kingdom." He gestured to the people seated beside him. Yang tried not to think much of them.

"I'm honored to have been invited, my lord." Yang bowed once more, then placed one foot in front of the other. She waited for Lao to begin playing his flute. Once the familiar music floated to her from across the room, she began her dance.

The Fire Lotus dance consisted of low, elongated leg movements that mirrored her arms. For each sway of her wrist, her ankle made a similar gesture. The beauty of Yang's dance, however, came from the occasional firebending accent that flowed with her movements. The guards and Kyoshi Warrior all flinched each time a trail of fire followed Yang's feet, but it simply made her smile. Deep down, she loved the attention. It made her feel appreciated and special, though she knew that she shouldn't feel that way after all that had happened.

The Fire Lord and his family watched with awe as the girl moved. Her long black hair was tied up with elegant flowers and jewels, which clicked and shimmered each time she bowed. Her skin had been further paled with facepaint and shadowed with dark makeup. Each step made the air feel warmer and more energetic; Yang could see excitement growing in her audience's eyes. However, as she continued through her routine, her heart became more and more distraught. She'd never killed anyone before this.

Finally, the last few steps of the song approached. Yang completed each movement with flawless effort as she concentrated on the heavy blade in her sleeve. She looked into the eyes of the Fire Lord as she spun to face the crowd. She looked for murderous intent. For hatred. For evil.

But all she could find in his amber gaze was exhaustion and a strange, familiar humility.

On the third to last step, Yang finally felt her body hesitating. This man was not darkness incarnate. When she slayed him, she would be slaying a good and innocent man; that much she could tell from his tired face — and from the way he held the hand of the older woman next to him. Now focusing on her features, Yang could tell that the person beside the ruler was none other than his mother. The cruelty of the man's death weighed heavier on the dancer than the blade hiding in her sleeve.

He would die. It would be her fault. Ying would live, but it would be at this man's — and his family's — unwarranted sacrifice.

Yang saw the guard beside Fire Lord Zuko twitch his brow. It was a small gesture, but she'd been trained to notice the smallest of facial oddities. A shadow crossed the man's face as he silently drew a jagged dagger from his hip. He gave the crowned Fire Lord a greedy, bloodthirsty glare. Yang recognized the guard at that moment; she'd seen him among The Order of the White Lotus members during a meeting with her clan. His scarred features and wicked grin made every drop of blood inside Yang boil and burn; the things he'd done to innocent people...and would now do to the innocent ruler of the Fire Nation.

Yang drew in a breath and, upon her dance's last step, she threw out her blade. As the guard aimed to plunge his blade in the Fire Lord's back, Yang's projectile dug into the crook of the assassin's neck.

Panic ensued. Yang didn't fully process what was happening, as the shock of her sudden disobedience put only her sister in the forefront of her mind. After a quick gasp, Yang tried to focus elsewhere. She came to realize quickly other guards beside the Fire Lord were also false. One saw what she had done to his comrade and leapt the dancer's way. He stomped into the ground and threw out both hands. A sharp rock from beneath the floorboards responded and charged Yang. She nearly dodged out of its way, but wasn't quite fast enough. The rock sliced at her hip. Blood spewed over her dress and the floor beneath her. Yang cried out, but responded with a series of quick punches towards the attacker. Fire spheres obeyed her whim and shot into the assailant's face. The faux guard cried out wildly, gripping his melting features. After a few moment, he collapsed.

Yang looked up to Fire Lord Zuko just in time to see him and the Kyoshi Warrior expertly fight off the other guards around them. The Fire Lord captivated Yang a bit; his art of firebending was strong, but soft. Swift, but sure. Fire wreathed him like a twisted saint, giving him the aura of a true Fire Nation ruler. He was everything that the Blue Dragon Assassins had promised he'd be. It was no wonder she'd been ordered _not_ to challenge the Fire Lord head-on.

As the last guard fell, Fire Lord Zuko attended first to his family. Yang was relieved to see the couple and the child were scared, but unharmed. Fire Lord Zuko then looked to Yang. His eyes widened and he ran to her.

"Are you okay?!" He asked. Yang glanced down at her wound. Her dress was soaked in crimson liquid — soaked to the point that streams of blood leaked down the side of her legs. Her adrenaline drained swiftly, as did the blood in her face. She felt her body collapse in on itself as pain attacked her body and mind. The Fire Lord caught her in his strong arms. She clung to the man as a lifeline, trying not to drown in her own agony. Yang let out a stiff cry and begged for the pain to stop. There was a hiss as her long nails dug into the rescuer's cloth and reached the muscles. She tried to apologize or something of the sort, but instead found the remainder of her free mind shutting down.


	4. Chapter 4: Cursed Morality

Yang awoke, baffled by the unbearable scent of incense. It was something strong and suffocating, like thousands of Earth Kingdom forests were being shoved up her nostrils. She'd never liked incense; people tended to use far too much for the sake of impressing guests or getting rid of the scent of death.

She opened her eyes slowly, ignoring the wretched smell. There was a high ceiling above her, slightly blurred by a gentle white canopy. Yang realized that she was in a very large and comfortable four-post bed made with a polished dark wood. She sat up — convulsing at a sharp pain on her side — and pressed at the mattress beneath her hands. It had to have been filled with feathers from a heavenly plane, because Yang had never been in something so cozy and comfortable in her life. She was used to an existence on bulging floor mats, not a fancy cloud.

A door opened in the farthest corner of the room. Yang noted nothing else around her, staring in alarm at the intruder ahead.

"Hello, Miss Shin," a Kyoshi Warrior greeted with a bow. Yang stared at her, fascinated by the colorful makeup masking a beautiful face. Her brown hair was short and curled slightly around her jaw. The green outfit and armor wasn't anything Yang hadn't seen before, but the small golden headdress atop the warrior's hair did keep her attention for a moment.

The woman said something more to Yang, but she missed it entirely. Yang shook her head and mumbled, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you feeling alright? Fire Lord Zuko wanted to speak with you, health permitting."

The Kyoshi Warrior was trying to sound formal, but it annoyed Yang. She felt like most efforts to be polite were fake anyway, and were only nice so they could later ask for a favor. Yang would rather people just be blunt and get to the point.

Then she remembered: Fire Lord Zuko. The target of an assassination. The assassination that _she_ was supposed to fulfill. The one where she instead ended up saving his life. What had she been thinking?

"Sure," Yang replied shortly. Her mind raced, her heart pounded violently in her chest. Her forehead started to sweat a bit. She had even started breathing heavily, but didn't take note of it until the Kyoshi Warrior spoke.

"Are you sure you're okay? Maybe we should wait to have Fi—."

"I'm fine!" Yang said quickly. "I'd...I'd like to speak with him. With the Fire Lord. Please." Yang could tell that the woman was suspicious of her at that point, but she nodded and left anyway.

Yang breathed a sigh and quickly touched her hip. It stung as soon as her fingertips brushed it—even despite the protection of firm bandages and new, loose clothing. With the memory of how she had received the injury, the pain started to flare up and take over her mind. Yang did her best to fight it back and searched the room for something to fight with. This would be her last chance to redeem herself and strike the Fire Lord down.

The room consisted of one dresser-vanity, one nightstand, and several wall scrolls hung against the wall. The former two items had nothing in them except white robes and parchments of thin paper, but no pen. Even _that_ would have been something. Yang found that the wall scrolls were hung with small nails and she considered taking those as her weapon. However, she was uncertain if the Fire Lord would note that any of the pictures were unhung.

After a moment of hesitation, she took two nails from the smallest scroll — one depicting a blue and red dragon twisting in the center of the artwork — and hid it behind the bed. She placed the nails under her pillow, then sat on the bed and waited.

The Fire Lord came in shortly after — as did the Kyoshi Warrior. She started to enter with the young man, but he held up his hand.

"Wait outside," he ordered.

"But my Lord—" the woman started to speak out.

"Please," he said, his voice a bit softer, "if she'd wanted me dead, she would've done it already."

Yang averted her gaze — but only for a moment. The Kyoshi Warrior gave her a glance, then reluctantly went to wait outside the door. Footsteps slowly approached Yang and met the man's face.

The dancer was a bit stunned to see the Fire Lord yet again. His black hair was disheveled, most of it had falling out of his crown. The eye beneath his scar seemed wary, tired, and sad, while his other eye showed an additional feature — a large black circle beneath the iris. His lips were in a strained line and blood splatters still covered parts of his cheek; Yang suspected they were from the assassin she'd killed. His robes were also tattered and torn in places, stained dark with both sweat and human's crimson . His hands were behind his back, but Yang had a sneaking suspicion that they were unclean as well. The man said absolutely nothing to her, prompting Yang to speak first.

"How...long have I been out?" It didn't seem like it had been that long; if he was still in his bloodied state, she couldn't have been unconscious for more than….

"A few hours," the Fire Lord answered. His voice was mature, but still held much youth. Yang was struck by how real it was. How human. She felt like the nails were burning a hole into her sheets nearby, but didn't dare touch them just yet.

"And the assassins?"  
"Gone." Fire Lord Zuko glanced at the wall beside them — the one where the dragon scroll had been placed. He stared at it for a long time. "How are you feeling?"

Yang put her hand slightly closer to the nails while the young Lord was distracted. "Not well. Alive, but in a lot of pain." This was the truth. Yang thought that, if she was going to kill this man, she had nothing to hide.

"I'm sorry that you were caught up in this," the Fire Lord said sincerely. He looked into Yang's eyes and she was unsettled by how strong the amber irises were. "I should have been more cautious. My family was met by these guards. I didn't recognize them, but I said nothing."

Yang nodded. It was all she could think to respond with.

The man went on. "You saved my life. Why?"

The "why" had heavy implications. Yang couldn't be certain of it, but she suspected that he knew why she had a blade in her sleeve. Why the dragon scroll was missing. Why she was sitting before him with an dark, uncertain gleam in her eyes.

And yet he'd insisted on meeting with her alone?

Yang answered seriously, "I don't know. I saw him pull out his weapon and…." The woman hissed internally. Why _did_ she save Fire Lord Zuko? Yang thought of her sister and the danger she'd put her in by failing the mission. One rusted nail would definitely kill this man, if Yang put in the right place, but something stopped her. Something more than duty or fear. It was…?

As Yang glanced over the Fire Lord, she recalled the man holding his mother's hand during the performance. She remembered now seeing his face shift from panic and concern for their safety during the fight, then relief after he found that no harm had come to them. Then there was the concern for _Yang_ when the man caught sight of her bloody wound. It was all genuine.

"You're...not evil," she muttered softly. The Fire Lord asked her to repeat, as she'd said it too quietly. With a deep, shaky breath, Yang stated, "You are not the kind of man that should be assassinated by someone so lowly and foolish. I just did what was right."

Had she really? By saving this innocent man's life, had she truly done the right thing? Wasn't protecting Ying her destiny? Her moral duty?

The Fire Lord nodded after a long moment. Then, he muttered, "Thank you."

His appreciation struck Yang's heart, making her both pleased and depressed. "Yeah. You're welcome." She didn't sound like she meant it, and maybe she didn't. Her sudden splurge of humanity would change everything she had planned. How would she have to handle things in the future? Would her sister even be alive within the hour?

After a small, uncertain sigh, Yang took out the nails from beneath the pillow and placed them on the nightstand. The Fire Lord watched her intently. After she put the would-be weapons in plain sight, Yang scooted away from them. She gripped her hip in pain, muttering something about being stupid for getting the wound in the first place. She said nothing about the rusted items.

"So," she began after a long silence, "are you going to imprison me?"

"Why would I do that?" The Fire Lord asked. Yang rose her brow.  
"You don't have to play dumb with me, your Highness. Are you going to arrest me or not?"

The Fire Lord turned towards the door, glancing at the woman over his shoulder. "As far as I know, you were just being a good citizen and helping some people in need."

Yang stared up at him in shock. "So...you're just going to let me go? You're not going to imprison me for…?"

The Fire Lord's eyes narrowed. "I didn't say you could leave. But you're not being convicted of a crime just yet."

Yang watched the man leave and then muttered towards the door, "Sounds like I'm a prisoner to me."

The Kyoshi Warrior came in a few minutes later with a small bowl of water. She placed it on the nightstand and stood expectantly before Yang.

"Your wounds," the painted woman stated shortly. Yang gave her a glare.  
"I can do that myself, thank you. I don't like people touching me."

The Kyoshi Warrior shrugged as if to say, "I tried" and left the room too eagerly.

Yang glanced at the water, trying not to think too much of the past. After a long, long time, she removed her clothing and the bandages over her wound. The straight line across her hip bone was still open and bleeding slightly, though it seemed to have settled some. Yang wrung a bed sheet into a tight line and placed it in her mouth. Then, she summoned a small ball of fire and set it onto her gash. She screamed through the sheets, which only muffled her cries slightly. However, from the time she started the cauterization to the moment she finished it, no one reentered her room.

Yang slowly pulled herself to the bowl of water, taking a deep breath. She waved a hand above the water, watching as it reacted to her every movement. The water followed her fingers in a slow stream towards her wound, where it settled against the burned flesh and filled her with a tingling relief.


End file.
